Rorona Head-Scratchers
by We Thought It'd Be Funny
Summary: Just a few oddities I found while playing Atelier Rorona. So I decided to share them.


Before we begin, credit must be given to TheMoonclaw. This story uses the same basic formula, after all. This is written with his permission.

It was probably unnecessary to ask, but I decided to err on the side of caution.

I hope you enjoy this, 'cause I plan to write a few more.

I do not own Atelier Rorona.

DISCLAMER: We Thought It'd Be Funny does not condone any of the activities depicted in the scene to follow. It is dangerous, and could get you killed.

Sincerely,

-Funny.

* * *

"Kyah!" Rorona screamed as she just barely managed to duck Sterk's blade, which made an ominous hiss as it cleaved the air above her. Not missing a beat, he immediately corrected his stance, and launched a downward stroke at his now defenseless opponent.

Watching him, Rorona immediately scrambled back, before getting up to run away from the skilled knight.

She shot a quick glare (or at least as close to a glare as Rorona could get) at the commentator's box, where her friend, Esty sat.

She looked behind her to see Sterk giving chase.

"Wonderful…" She moaned, looking forward to see how much room she had-

WHACK!

"Ow…" she mumbled, her voice muffled by the concrete wall she just ran into.

Sterk immediately halted his pursuit, lips pursed slightly out of concern for his friend. He sighed and sheathed his sword, and made the symbol for a time out, placing his hands together to make a "T". Esty called the time out, and Sterk moved up to check on his friend.

"Are… You okay Rorona?" He asked, voice laden with concern.

"I… I think so…" she sniffed, and turned around, to reveal that, physically, she was no worse for wear. Sterk let out a pent-up breath, and began to back away from Rorona.

"Ready to continue?" Sterk asked, drawing his blade again.

Rorona stopped for a minute, thinking hard. After a few minutes, her expression cleared.

"Yes!" She said, a new burst of confidence injected into her voice.

"Good. Then prepare yourself." He smiled, and looked on as Rorona rummaged through her bag, looking for something.

_If she thinks an uni is going to stop me, she has no id-_

"Ta-dah!" she chimed, holding the item up for the world to see.

A stick of dynamite.

Sterk paled and almost lost his grip on his sword.

_Wh… She's not… She's not serious, is she? _ He thought, as sweat began to collect on his previously dry palms. Meanwhile, Rorona had extracted a match from a small box she kept with her at all times, and was striking it against the abrasive surface on the box.

Thankfully for Sterk- who was currently frozen in fear- she was having no luck.

"Fiddlesticks!" she pseudo-swore after the tenth try. For an alchemist, she sure was terrible with matches. She typically had Tantris or Gio or Iksel light the matches whenever she needed them. She could do it, in a pinch, but fighting in a tournament she didn't want to be in did not count as "in a pinch".

She hummed as she concentrated, then struck the match in one, clean motion, sending a small flame flickering to life at the end.

Strange, how such a small flame would seal his fate.

But it certainly didn't seem strange for Sterk as the flame touched the fuse and he heard it hiss as it burned down.

"Here I go!" she cheered as the dynamite sailed in a perfect arc towards Sterk.

"Wait, no, no, nononononononoNO!"

BOOM!

* * *

Sterk was in the hospital, though that was hardly suprising. Actually, it was. If he hadn't thrown up his guard at the last minute, he would have been history. But he hadn't escaped unscathed. His legs and his left arm were broken, and his body ached everywhere. In fact, if it weren't for the healing salves he had been given, he would likely be inarticulate with pain.

"Sir?"

Sterk turned his head slightly as the nurse addressed him, and noted that she was carrying an extravagant bouquet of flowers. Each one was picture perfect, and sent a pleasant aroma through the room.

"Delivery for you, sir." she said, setting the flowers on his bedside table. Upon closer inspection, a tag was attached to it.

Written in all capital letters in neat handwriting was:

I'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRY I'MSORRYI'MSORRY!

-RORONA

Sterk sighed, and turned away from the flowers.

He'd forgive her, though.

After gathering a few things and defeating a few monsters in the Catacombs.

The one location that Rorona hated to go to.

As he began to drift off to sleep, he felt a rather vindictive smile cross his face.

* * *

And that's the story about how Rorona threw an explosive at one of her friends.

Don't play with fireworks (or any explosive, for that matter).

I'm serious.

Read and review, please.

Sincerely,

-Funny.


End file.
